He shouldered his goods, then used the strap from one of his empty food bags to tie around the yeti skins, which he threw on his back. He picked up Grees, the smallest gnome boy, and raised him carefully up upon his shoulders to the delight of the boy and grins from the gnomes, and then they began walking. The sun was directly overhead, indicating that half the sunlight in the day was gone, and half was available for them to use in their journey, where ever it was headed. Kestrel walked behind the yeti carcass, with one gnome behind him, while two walked in front of the group that carried the yeti load, one even farther in front, and they proceeded to cross the plain, following the river south, the direction he wanted to go, Kestrel was glad to see.
They walked at a steady pace as long as the sun shone. When sunset began, Kestrel expected them to stop, but they continued to move forward at the same pace, even after night had fallen and stars were shining brightly above. Kestrel had eyesight that was weak by the standards of the elves, though keen for a human, but he had to remain highly attentive to the movements in the dark of those in front of him to see the route they followed, and he marveled at the eyesight the gnomes possessed. When the procession finally stopped long after sunset, Bolt and Grees were directed over to Kestrel, and the three of them stood out of the way as the gnomes bustled about setting up camp, starting a fire, and arranging sleeping sites.
Kestrel partook in the food they shared that night, and joined them around the fire. They tried to socialize with him, and he began to learn their language– carsh was fire, roosh was big, swish was arrow. He wasn’t asked to serve a turn on watch duty, and slept lightly through the night, only the chilly temperatures bothering his sleep.
The next morning they were up early and on the move. They finished crossing the wide plain, the plateau Kestrel had met the gnomes on, and began to climb as the river climbed once again, towards a set of distant mountains that were the highest Kestrel thought he had yet seen. They didn’t travel a great distance that day, but what they lacked in miles covered they made up for in feet of altitude gained. By late afternoon Kestrel sensed that the air was growing thinner once again, as he needed deeper breaths while he climbed.
On his third day with the gnome group they left the river valley at mid-morning, turning east to go up a side valley. The boys, who typically traveled with Kestrel, were clearly growing excited. “Gnest!” Bolt repeated to Kestrel. Minutes later, the valley leveled and widened, and numerous structures quickly became evident, tall buildings constructed against the sides of the valley. As the squad drew close to the center of the village, numerous gnomes poured out of the buildings, focusing their attention on Kestrel and the yeti carcass.
The yeti was taken into a building on the left, and as the members of Kestrel’s squad began to disperse, many of them came up to Kestrel. They raised a hand above their hands in some ceremonial gesture, which Grees demonstrated to Kestrel he was supposed to respond to by slapping his palm against theirs. As each of the gnomes in the squad walked away, they were surrounded by hugging, friendly gnomes from the village, and Kestrel had a sense that there was profound affection in existence among the small people, even as numerous fingers were pointed at him and considerable conversation obviously was centered on him.
The gnome who the boys were friendliest with – Kestrel’s mind categorized him as an uncle or cousin – led Kestrel and the youngsters to a ground level doorway, and bid Kestrel to enter. He was astonished to discover that the room he entered, what he had supposed would be the entirety of the apartment, turned out to be the entrance to a large cave in the cliff wall behind the building. There was furniture placed about the space, both in the room and in the cave, and the boys rushed in and threw themselves gladly upon piles of furs within the cave.
“Gnest,” the uncle told Kestrel, waving his extended arm across the width of the space. He held his hand high, and after Kestrel slapped it, the uncle left, curving his arm around the waist of a female gnome as he walked away to enter another door not far off.
And so Kestrel settled in to live among the gnomes. He began to learn the language of the people, as numerous gnomes of both genders stopped by every day to deliver food to him and the boys, and to teach him a vocabulary and a rudimentary grammar. He told himself that if allowed, he would remain among the gnomes until he thought spring was beginning to arrive; the journey through the high altitude of the mountains in winter had been a more severe test than he had expected, and the highest mountains still were south of his location, waiting for him to try to overcome their challenging heights. He could see the top of that skyscraping ridge line south of the village, a reminder every day of what lay ahead of him whenever the time came for him to proceed on his journey towards Graylee.
Within two weeks he spoke enough of the gnome language to offer to go hunting with the parties that he saw depart every morning, searching for food. When he was required to demonstrate his abilities with a bow and arrow, he so far outshone the abilities of the gnomes themselves that he was readily welcomed to go every day.
The hunters were impressed by his archery, but determined to show themselves to him in the best light possible, so they challenged him to contests of skill involving rock-throwing. Kestrel was astounded by the distance, the power, and the accuracy of the stonehurling the gnomes demonstrated. They threw rocks twice the size of his fist for over a hundred yards with an accuracy that could bring down a mountain goat, and he sincerely complimented them to a degree that made them proud of their abilities.
It was among his hunting companions that he learned his name among the villagers was the name that Bolt and Grees had given him the first night they were together – shoosh dimma, or small monster, as compared to the yeti who had been on the scene, the roosh dimma, or large monster. He laughed with the gnomes at the name, and he learned more every day as he bonded with the hunters, the mostly bachelor young men of the gnome tribe that had adopted him.
The gnome who the yeti had killed was a young mother who had been temporarily ostracized by the village as punishment for violating the rules of the village repeatedly, and had made the poor decision to run away with her boys – their father was believed to be a gnome from another tribe in a village in another valley. Her departure had not been realized for two days, and then her brother– the boy’s uncle, as Kestrel had correctly surmised – led the party that had tracked her down, and been prepared to carry her back against her will.
The grandmothers of the village responded to his question about treating his yeti hide, showing him how to remove the hair and cure it. The resulting product was an ugly hide, not one that would ever grace a wealthy man’s boots or saddle. But Kestrel knew that its worth as a means of protection was beyond calculation, if it turned away arrows and swords as easily as it had while still on the yeti.
The band of gnomes he hunted with astonished Kestrel one day when they asked him what he would do with his wealth. “What money?” he asked.
“The roosh dimma, the yeti carcass,” they answered. And so he learned that the yeti had been butchered just as the yeti in Estone had been, less the kegs of blood, and the body parts were reckoned to be worth great wealth, whether sold to other gnomes, to other gnome villages, or to humans even, via the limited trade the gnomes had with the “thin people outside” as they called the humans outside of the mountain range.
“Are there ways to go to the humans? Is there a trail that I couldtake to reach the others of my kind?” he asked, and was assured that there were such paths, and that they would open up in the spring time.
He asked and learned that the whole village was anxious to learn about his plans; there was a keen interest, for no hunter from their village had ever participated in killing a yeti, an achievement of great honor among the gnome tribes. “What does the tribe think I should do with the yeti?” he asked.
There were numerous opinions he learned, as his band of hunters climbed in search of mountain goats that were thought to be in nearby valley. The gnomes considered the yeti body
to have more medicinal uses than the humans did – it was thought to promote healthiness and long life in general, not just virility, and so some wanted the whole village to share, some wanted parts to be sold to other villages to bring wealth and fame to the local village, some though Kestrel should get and keep it all, some thought he should split it with the village; the options were varied, he discovered.
That afternoon, as they walked back to the village with the two goats that Kestrel’s arrows had killed, he announced that he would share half the yeti with the village, if the villagers all promised to help feed, clothe and raise Bolt and Grees. The rest he would sell, to keep some money for himself, but with the majorityto be used on the boys’ behalf as well. His promises struck all the hunters as fair and kind, if perhaps a little foolish.
His generosity towards the two orphans was celebrated by the members of the village with a large ceremonial dinner, one at which Kestrel was accorded an honored seat by the fire for the entire evening, as the rest of the village performed their dances and music and poetry for him. He was entranced with three young maidens, who stood before him during the meal and played a haunting melody on musical instruments that were reeds and hollow tubes cut to varying lengths. The music entranced him, and he made a point of thanking the trio for the beauty of their performance. He’d heard no music among the gnomes at all until that evening, and didn’t realize how much he missed listening to tunes played well.
The last tune played was a solo piece of music, a beautiful, haunting piece of music that stirred his heart with its promise of peace and gentle rest. Part hymn, part lullaby, the music was so touching that Kestrel commented on how much it had moved him, and the elders of the village nodded sagely in agreement, then shortly thereafter the concert was over and everyone departed to seek the warmth of their homes.
The following morning one of the musicians knocked nervously on his door as he was feeding Bolt and Grees.
“We are honored to see you as our guest,” Kestrel spoke to the girl as he hastily wiped his hands on his pants and welcomed her into their home.
“I have been instructed by the elders to offer my music to you,” Greta, the maiden said in a low voice, as she stood with her head bowed.
There was something she wasn’t saying, Kestrel was sure. He’d not spent much time socializing with the maidens of the village, but when he had, they had never seemed so shy as to seem fearful. Whatever her words implied was lost on him however, and he decided to treat her suggestion in a straightforward manner, so that she could correct him as she might choose.
“Do you boys want to go play outside?” he asked his wards, and sent them out of the house.
“Greta, I enjoyed your music last night very much,” he told the silent girl as she stood in the room, once the youngsters were dismissed. “Are you here to teach me how to play your pipes? Is that what you mean by offering me your music? I think the pipes sounded very lovely, and I do have enough free time each day that I could sit down with you and take lessons, and I would enjoy that very much,” he told the girl.
Her head rose as he spoke, and she stared at him with an expression that was part astonishment and part dismissal, then she spoke after several seconds of consideration. “We can begin your lessons today if you like,” she finally said. And so, over the next month, Kestrel learned the rudiments of how to play the gnomes pipes. He drew friendly jeers from his hunting companions, who told him that the pipes were for girls only, but he brushed off their laughter, and gained adequate proficiency to satisfy himself that the tunes were recognizable.
He even began to improvise playing some elvish tunes on the pipes, and taught them to Greta, who once she had learned them, played them much more fluidly that Kestrel could. Only after several weeks of lessons and practice did Greta grow bold enough and comfortable enough in her quiet, comfortable relationship with Kestrel to reveal to him that when she had first approached him, she had been following the gnomish tradition of offering herself to be his bride, and had trembled in fear that he would accept her.
They both laughed heartily over the misunderstanding, and thereafter their running joke was to refer to each other as husband and wife. And Kestrel insisted that Greta teach him the tune that had so captured his heart when she played it as her solo piece in concert on the night he had first heard the pipes played. The tune was appropriately called, “The Song That Promises Peace and Safety”, and Kestrel learned it by heart bypracticing on many a long winter’s night.
The gnomes respected his concern for the boys, and his willingness to care for them. And when the spring time began to arrive, when green things began to emerge from the ground and new birds began to arrive, Kestrel knew he had to go on. Leaving Bolt and Grees was the hardest part he faced, and making sure that they could move in with their uncle and aunt and cousin was a sad arrangement to assure, but he did it, and then invited the boys to come part of the way with him, as a pair of his hunter friends agreed to take him on the trails that led to the far side of the high ridge, the last high ridge left before the mountains diminished rapidly in height to the south and leveled out to become the foothills and plains of Graylee’s frontier.
Two nights later, the elders of the village held a ceremony to make Kestrel an official member of the tribal clan. He was drenched in snow that his friends had brought down from the mountain heights, he was made to jump over fires, and he was told to sing worshipful songs to the gnomish gods. Then he was given a golden goblet, an artifact he had never seen before, and told to drink all of its contents in one draught.
With trepidation, he placed the rim of the goblet to his lips, then lifted the cup and started to drink. It was water, very cold, metallic-tasting water, which he swallowed rapidly, then lowered the cup.
“Now you are of us. You have drunk the water from the sacred spring in the high cave,” the chieftain of the village told him. “You will be marked within a few days, and forever able to be recognized as one of us. We welcome you,” the gnome handed Kestrel a blanket, then embraced him in a tight, affectionate hug, as every adult member of the village lined up and followed by hugging him as well for the next several minutes.
“What will my mark be?” Kestrel asked his hunting companions the next morning. “How will I be marked as part of the village?”
“Your eyes,” Yeowan told him.
“Your eyes will turn purple, like the gemstones in the sacred cave where the spring water comes from,” Tarble agreed and expanded. “And where ever you go among the people of the mountains,” as the gnomes referred to themselves, “you will be acknowledged as one of us.”
“Especially if you play the pipes for them!” Yeowan laughed, as all the young male hunters did at Kestrel’s lessons in music.
For the next week, following a loud and lively night of farewells and celebration dinner in the village, Kestrel and the gnomes resolutely climbed south through the mountains, through a pass in the ridge and thena day’s march on the other side. The gnomes showed Kestrel the river valley that led to the land of the humans, only two more days away if he made good time, they assured him.
Kestrel wept as he hugged the boys who had been his companions for so long, and they laughed when he told them they were almost “shoosh dimmas” now that they had been with him so long, and learned some of his words, and made child-sized boys designed like his elven bow instead of the usual gnomish bows. And then he began his journey, and looked back to see the gnomes also turning their backs to return to the valley of their people.
The rest of his journey out of the rugged mountain heights took Kestrel two and a half days. He traveled straight south, not having to stop to hunt, thanks to the bag of supplies he had been given. At the end of those two and half days, as the sun began to set, he climbed up a tall hickory tree, and welcomed himself back to the land of the humans, where he planned to leave behind the friendship and simplicity and honesty of his life with the gnomes, and become a spy.
Chapter 4– The Outlaw Band
Kestrel walked through foothills for two days after he left the hickory tree, and he began to spot scattered homesteads among the forests and pastures along the river valley. Among the trees there were sows with litters of piglets, who chased him out of their territory, and dairy cows that contentedly grazed in interspersed pastures. He saw human farmers, who worked hard in the warmer, spring-like climate that existed south of the mountains, tilling their fields. It was an idyllic introduction to Graylee, not the picture of treachery and evil that he expected, and he trotted along his way without great concern for his safety. His only real worry was trying to figure out which priority was highest for him– did he need to place himself within the Graylee army to learn about the plans for new attacks upon the Eastern Forest, or did he need to enter the court and discover whether there was an ambassador from Uniontown, one who was a distributor of trouble and malice on behalf of some evil southern deity.
His answer appeared in front of him while he was still leaving the frontier of Graylee. As he trotted along a game trail in the forest, not far off the main road that paralleled the river, he observed a large group of people on horses on the road, all standing in one place, speaking in raised voices. Kestrel climbed a tree, and deposited all his goods in a fork in the branches, all except his bow and arrows and Lucretia and Mastrin. He climbed out a high branch, then leaped onto a lower branch of a neighboring tree, and so came to a spot just above the humans on the horses.
He had discovered an ambush. Two human men and two human women were surrounded by a dozen other men in red hats, who had weapons drawn. The two outnumbered men were handing their weapons and purses to the others, while the women were removing jewelry. The jewelry was coming too slowly for one of the outlaws, who banged his horse in between the two women and violently grabbed at their necklaces, ripping their bodices as he pulled the silver and gold away. Kestrel saw that the encounter was about to turn violent, and he strung an arrow on his bow in preparation to help the outnumbered victims.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace Page 4
